The Diary Chronicles
by Flag
Summary: Our favorite greaser guys take turns writing in a diary, expressing various parts of their day's...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Go ahead and flame away, I don't really care to be honest.

Disclaimer: not mine.

I tried to come up with an appropriate beginning to this stupid diary for three hours now; I've come up with many starts, yet each one has been scratched out again and again, taking up sheets of paper at a time; how does someone tough start a diary? Then, I got the idea:

'_Dear Diary_…'

No, no. Dear Diary is to girly. Don't girls write 'Dear Diary' when they write about how bad their, well, uh… That time of the uh… Well, then I went back to trying to think of a new start to my diary, which I will no longer call a Diary because it sounds like a girls name, and tough boys like me don't use prissy names like Diary. Diaries are for wimps, like Pricilla and Vanilla.

"_Dear David_…"

I decided that was a good start. It started with the same letter as Diary, and it still sounded like a name, probably because it was a name. I didn't know what to write to David though, since I'd never met him… and so my problem became my own.

"_Dear David_…

_It's me again_…"

No, that wouldn't do at all. I'd never written in or to David before, so how could I say 'again'? I scratched it all out again, crumpling the messy piece of paper and throwing it behind my head again, where it joined to rest of the papers I'd hastily scribbled upon, scribbled out, and thrown over, aiming for the garbage pail and missing terribly. I had never pretended to be an A class basketball player.

"Dear David…"

Dear David? David was that kid who used to pull my beautiful blonde hair. Back to the drawing board.

"Dear… Dallas."

Yes, that was a good start. Dear Dallas. Who wouldn't love the name Dallas? It still started with D, and Dallas was one of the toughest names you could get, opposite of 'Diary' which wasn't actually a name, but that's not the point I was trying to make.

"Dear Dallas,

My stupid moronic teacher made me write this stupid diary…"

No, there I went saying the stupid girly word diary again. I scratched it out and replaced it with journal, a much more manly macho word, since I was notoriously a manly, macho man and knew it.

"Dear Dallas,

My stupid moronic teacher made me write this stupid diary so that I can pass this fucking course…"

What tough hood says course? I replaced it with 'learning shit'. And so I started to write again.

"I don't know why the fuck I need a damn high school diploma…"

No, I wasn't after a diploma. I was after the heavy made up Diaries… I mean, girls.

"Don't know why the fuck I need a damn high school thing, but I do know why I need the chicks in the classes."

Thing seemed like a good word…

"So, I'm off to get the skanks, and not do more of this fucking shit that I don't care about." And of course, I needed my signature.

That pleased me. And so, my assignment read

"Dear Dallas,

My stupid moronic teacher made me write this stupid diary so I can pass this fucking learning shit. Don't know why the fuck I need a damn high school thing, but I do know why I need the chicks in the classes. So, I'm of to get the skanks, and not do any more of this fucking shit that I don't care about.

Dallas Winston."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Glad some people liked it This is a little blog-like in diary form, lol. Hope you enjoy! This is a little dirty, but not too much so. Very weird, actually.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Outsiders.

Dear Diary:

I've never had such a hard time getting a girl in my life. Heard an ad on the radio today, advertising a ladies store. What was I supposed to think of that? 'A store for ladies!' What's a man who's been hard up supposed to think of that?

Anyways, I went to the address and found it easy. A great big sign said, 'VICTORIA'S SECRET'. Victoria's secret? All I wanted was to find out what Victoria's secret was!

I went into the store and was surprised out of my mind! Everywhere I looked, there were racks and racks of lingerie and underwear. Sets of ladies underwear everywhere. Racks and racks of underwear was making me happy, but I had one question; Where were the ladies? As I walked along, I decided that I should have definitely come across a naked lady within two minutes judging by the amount of underwear. So, I wandered around aimlessly until I found what I was looking for: A sign that said 'LADIES' with a blocky lady underneath. I thought it was for literate, and illiterate men. There were no instructions anywhere so I walked right on in.

What had I done wrong? I saw a sign that said 'Ladies', and all there was were toilets. Confused, I left. This store was awful; It was advertised as a store for ladies, yet there were no ladies anywhere! Lots of deserted underwear everywhere; so much that they had to hang it on racks, yet all I had seen was a fully clothed old lady! What was going on?

I left the toilet room, getting annoyed. It was short lived.

"Can I help you?" an incredibly leggy, blonde girl asked, giving me a weird look. I wondered briefly whether she knew I had turned a room full of ladies into toilets. 'Hell yeah!' I thought, but kept my cool.

"Yeah," I said, giving her the head nod and wink of 'Lets get it on!', but she gave me the head shake and shove of 'Get away from me you moron,' when I tried to put my arm around her.

"What are you looking for, Sir?" she asked.

"Maybe a redhead?" I told her.

My day was ruined.


End file.
